The Last Christmas
by writtenrhythm
Summary: Join in on the last Christmas Dominic Santiago spends with his family  before E-day. A look at the family Dom loved and lost when hell broke through  their streets. Guest stars include Marcus Fenix and the Cole Train!


**Bit late, but here we go! Enjoy!**

Dominic Santiago jingled his car keys in his hands. Slow. Too friggin slow.

He had been lucky to get leave off in time for Christmas, and spend it with Maria and the kids. Last year he had been recalled for a mission ten days before hand, and he had the damnest time leaving behind his two young children, Benedicto and Sylvia, and forcing Maria to play Santa by herself. This year, he swore it would be different.

Of course, that meant Maria making Christmas dinner by herself for their small family. And she just _had_ to have the nutmeg and cinnamon that she had forgotten to grab at the store a week ago. So she sent Dom out to fetch it, forcing him to brave the traffic and crazy, sleep deprived shoppers out for that last minute gift to buy a freaking _spice_.

The slow beeping of the cash register was slowly grating on his nerves while the canned, cheery Christmas hymns crackled from invisible speakers. Shoppers hustled from aisle to aisle, bumping carts and ransacking store shelves. _Damn,_ he thought to himself. _I've seen battlefields with more organization than this…_ He finally found the two bottles of the aromatic spices and booked it back to the cash registers. He waited in line for a full twenty minutes before making it out to the freezing parking lot.

The temperature was almost dipping into the negatives, but it hadn't snowed, much to his young daughter's disappointment. She had seen snow before, but was too little to remember it. If she had to bare the frigid temperatures Frost brought, she had decided that she deserved a bit of snow to make it worthwhile. Dom, however, was happy for the clear roads as he navigated traffic back to his small, rented home where his family waited for him.

"Daddy!" two young voices chorused as he opened the front door. He had been home for three days, but since they saw so little of him every time he returned was a cause for celebration. He didn't mind as two pairs of arms encircled his legs; he felt the same overwhelming happiness on his return. _Yeah…_ he thought to himself. _I need more time like this, family time. Lord knows their growing so fast already. _

Maria stood in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the doorframe with an apron and a smile. She crossed her arms over her chest, careful not to let the chocolate-covered spatula rest on her red sweater. "Welcome home, soldier," she said, amusement dancing in her voice and in her eyes.

He let his eyes sink shut on a groan, playing up the trip to the grocers. "Ugh…I _feel _like a soldier returning from war. The army needs to up its recruitment program; those housewives are _vicious._"

Her peals of laughter were music to his ears as she took the spices from him and planted a kiss on his stubbly jaw. "Well, the apple pie salutes you," she joked, turning on her bare heel and heading back into the kitchen.

"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" her daughter repeated eagerly, tugging on his pant's legs excitedly.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, picking her up in his strong arms. She molded against his chest, one hand wrapped around his neck. She pointed earnestly towards the living room.

Bennie seemed to share his little sister's excitement. "Come on, Dad!" he said, tearing off in the direction Sylvia was pointing. Maria scolded him with a light 'No running!' and he slowed, but still bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement.

In the living room resided a bright green, artificial tree. It stood tall, almost as tall as Dom, and it's large branches swept through most of the room. It was an impressive tree, except for the fact that it was completely and totally bare. "It's…great," Dom hedged uncertainly, not sure what response his children were so obviously looking for.

"Isn't it?" Bennie said breathlessly, as Sylvia was currently sucking her thumb in awe. "Now we can decorate it! And you can help!" He tore through a cardboard box labeled 'Christmas Decorations'. He emerged triumphant with the coveted topper of the tree; a bright gold, sparkling star. "Here, Dad," he said, passing the star to his father with great care. "You can put the star on!"

Dom suddenly understood. He hadn't been here before to do this simple tradition with his kids. They were excited to get to do this with him. A wave of emotion swelled up in his chest, and he looked down at Sylvia for a moment to recover. She still had her small thump firmly implanted between her rosy lips, and her big brown eyes were staring at him. She giggled, the sweet sound slightly muffled by her thumb, before she reached for the star Dom now held. "Pretty," she said.

Dom gave the star to her, where she held it with great caution and care. Bennie was slightly irritated that his father had given the coveted topper to his little sister, but was determined not to let it show. Instead, he dove back into the box of decorations, pulling out a long strand of tangled lights. He tried to unravel the labyrinth of wires and small, colorful bulbs, only succeeding in tangling himself in with it.

Dom managed to hold back his laughter, but only just. He placed Sylvia on the couch with the star still in her hands, and aided his only son in escaping the light's ensnaring claws. He untangled the lights, and they began stringing them along the branches of the tree. Sometime along the expedition, Sylvia had climbed off the couch and attempted to help string the tree with the colorful lights. She hindered more than helped, but Dom endured her tangling efforts with patience, not getting the slightest bit upset when she managed to undo a solid five minutes of work with a single swipe of her 'helping hands'.

The tree now fully decked out in lights, the trio then moved on to ornaments. They hadn't many, struggling to get by on a single soldier's paycheck feeding the three of them. Most of them were homemade; crafted during hours of indoor 'arts and crafts' times. Sylvia's were crudely made, simple trinkets colored with crayon and made 'pretty' by glued on glitter. Bennie's were more complex. Dom could see a Santa, a snowman, plenty of cut out snowflakes, and - on one disturbing occasion - a gold flecked lancer, a heartfelt replica of the icon of his father's job.

Sometime during this escapade, Maria had abandoned the kitchen for the show happening in her living room. The tree was in a sorry state, neither child being able to reach very high up. The lower branches were almost filled with ornaments, while the upper branches stood close to being bare. Dom had apparently noticed this, and was subtly trying to reposition some of the ornaments from the bottom branches to the top. Alas, it was a fruitless effort, as the kids replaced two ornaments for every one he moved. Heaving a sigh, he finally picked Sylvia up again and helped her place ornaments on the upper branches.

Maria had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. Sylvia, her independent, stubborn daughter, insisted on placing every ornament herself. This not only included placement onto the branches, but picking out the ornament she wanted from the box on the ground. Dom very patiently would lower the little girl to the ground, where she would stew over the kaleidoscope of sparkly ornaments available to her, before picking _one_ up with all the effort and delicacy one would use picking up a child. He would then heft the girl back up, where she would stare at the tree for no less than two minutes, deciding upon the _perfect_ spot for the glittery, colorful piece of paper and yarn she held. The cycle would be repeated, over and over again without Dom once protesting.

Bennie wasn't doing much better. In his haste, he would grab randomly for an ornament out of the box and slap it on the tree, before going back for more. This pursuit led to him knocking off as many ornaments as he replaced; a small pile of baubles and trinkets collecting under the tree. He didn't notice, or care, as he continued to decimate and repair the same branches of tree over and over again.

"Done!" Bennie called out excitedly, evidently having turned the decorating into a contest. He grinned at his mother, who applauded from across the room. She very pointedly did not look under the tree. Sylvia, still in Dom's arms, pinpointed the perfect spot on the tree for the wrinkled piece of construction paper she held, and carefully rested it among the branches. Bennie picked up the star from its resting place on the couch. "Topper time!" he sang, excited.

Dom placed Sylvia on the ground, where she immediately crossed her legs and started sucking her thumb again. Bennie tried to pass the star off to his father, who surprised him by sweeping Bennie up in his arms. "Topper time!" Dom sang right back, hefting Bennie to the top of the tree. He supported his son around the middle, holding him up so Bennie 'topped' the tree. Maria laughed out loud, echoing Bennie's surprised giggles. Sylvia clapped her hands, enjoying the show.

"Dad!" Bennie protested playfully, giggling as his father suspended him in midair. "_I'm _not the topper! The _star_ is the topper!" he informed his father of this with a exasperated sigh, another instance of childlike intelligence topping the pranks of adults.

"Oops!" Dom cajoled, properly abashed for the sake of his children. He was being a little goofy, but that's what he always loved about his kids. He always felt a little younger when around them, as if all the stress of modern life just faded away, and the most pressing maters were bedtime and what to ask Santa for Christmas.

Dom tossed Bennie up in the air and caught him, adjusting his hold so Bennie faced the tree. "Go on, son. Put the star on."

Bennie hesitated, then very carefully placed the star on the top branches of the tree. It tipped to the side, so he gently pushed it back upright. Dom lowered him to the ground, and there was a contented silence as they all stared at the star. It was one of those moments where nobody wanted to talk, they just wanted to imprint this moment into their memory so they could bring it up years later with their own kids. Sylvia gave a happy sigh, then rested her head on her father's leg. "Pretty," she whispered again.

Maria smiled happily, watching Dom spend time with their kids. It wasn't an easy life; raising two young kids on her own while worrying herself to death about him being at war. Sometimes she just wanted to throw her hands in the air and call it quits, but she knew she could never stand losing the moments like this; moments where the struggles of the day to day floated away, and you could practically see the love in the air.

The moment was interrupted by he frantic beeping of the smoke alarm. Everyone sprang into action, rushing into the kitchen. "Oh no!" Maria lamented. "The pie!"

She yanked the oven door open, coughing as the action released a cloud of dark smoke. She pulled the pie out of the oven. It had been reduced to a burnt shell that was charred and black. She dropped it onto the stove, slamming the oven door shut while Dom deactivated the alarm. "Damn it! Damn, damn, damn!" she cursed.

"Mommy said a bad word!" Bennie warned, shaking his head at her. "That's four quarters in the curse jar!" He held up three fingers, still working on his numbers.

Sylvia giggled at her mother. "Damn, damn, damn," she bleated happily.

Maria bit her lip, watching the antics of her two children. Where was the peace of the living room? The feeling that _didn't_ make her want to run screaming from the room? She gave a heavy sigh, slapping the oven mitt onto the counter. She quieted Sylvia, and promised Bennie she'd put a dollar in the curse jar tomorrow. She then had to explain to him that four quarters did in fact add up to a dollar, and she wasn't trying to cheat the curse jar.

Dom was chuckling quietly, leaning against the wall next to the silenced smoke detector. Maria shot him a narrowed-eyed look. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He swallowed his laughter, returning her look with the wide-eyed innocent expression he had seen on his children so many times. "Who, me? Of course not! Who enjoys burnt pie?"

"That's not what-" she started, then stopped, watching him start to laugh. She gave a frustrated sigh, then leaned against the counter. He reached around her and picked up a serving spoon.

He scraped back the top layer of the pie. "Look, I'm sure it's not as bad as it…" he trailed off, staring at the mangled pie. The filling had burnt too, leaving a sticky mess of charred apples and sticky spices. He used the spoon to stir the gunk the pie had become, fighting more laughter.

She sighed, watching him further decimate the pie. "Just leave it," she told him. "I'll have to make a new one before going to my parent's house tomorrow. Thank goodness it's only Christmas eve."

He shrugged. "Why do we even need pie? Why can't you just whip up something else, like…pudding?"

"Pudding?" she deadpanned, with a cocked eyebrow.

"Pudding." he repeated, feeling like he had just made a major faux paus.

"Because, _Dominic,"_ she said in her 'lecture' voice. "My family had _always _had apple pie for Christmas. It's tradition. Not _pudding."_

She gave him a grave look, the one that told him she was desperately fighting to keep down laughter. "Well, in _my_ family," he said, dipping the tip of his finger in the ruined pie, scooping out a bit of gooey deliciousness. "We always had…_pudding._" He tapped her nose on the last word, leaving behind a streak of pie goop.

She nodded, aware that her children where watching. If they weren't, she probably would have dumped the entire contents of the pie pan on her lover's head, then had hours of fun washing it out for him. She carefully and deliberately removed the goop from the tip of her nose with her finger, then sucked the sugary sweetness off of her finger. Dominic's eyes darkened as he watched her. She slowly pulled her finger out of her mouth, then wiped it on her apron. She so wanted to kiss him, to taste the sweetness of his lips, but she refrained for her children's sake.

"Well," she said, picking up a piece of charred pie crust. "We always had…_pie._" She used the blackened crust to draw a smiley face on his cheek. He stood still, letting her finish with a flourish. She grinned evilly, then crushed the last bit of crust into his nose, leaving behind a black smudge.

"Pudding," Dom repeated, swiping another finger-full of sticky sweetness across her lips.

"Pie," Maria said, placing a small chunk of apple on the tip of his nose, where it stuck, held fast by the sweet glue.

This probably would have continued for hours, stopping only when the mangled pie was completely gone, worn by both combatants. Instead, Benedicto proposed a peace treaty. "Why can't we have pudding-pie?" he asked.

The two 'adults' froze; Maria rubbing gunk onto Dom's cheek as he drew a moustache on her with blackened crust. Maria was the first to move, bursting into peals of laughter. She grabbed a towel off the counter and wiped Dom's face with it. "Pudding pie!" she exclaimed, not being able to explain in a million years why it was so funny to her.

Dom wasn't doing much better. He laughed too, gracefully enduring his wife's attempts to remove the gunk from his face. He took the towel from her, but instead of using to wipe her face, he tossed it back onto the counter, choosing instead to kiss away the sweet goo on her lips.

Bennie made a sour face at his sister, who returned it. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand for her to grab it. "Let's go look under the tree again." The pair left the two lovebirds alone in the kitchen, who took no notice of their departure. Sylvia padded along behind her brother obediently. She loved spending time with her older brother, but he felt that because she was a girl and two years younger than him, she was mostly annoying and undeserving to play with him and his friends. Every once in a while, however, he would relent and play with his little sister, even enjoying some of the games she wanted to play. Of course, he would never admit that to anyone.

When she was born, his grandpa had picked him up and brought him to the hospital to see his new baby sister. "Now," he had said in his deep voice, carefully maneuvering the lines of traffic. "When this baby is born, you're going to be her Big Brother. That's a pretty serious job, mister."He rolled his dark eyes down to Bennie, who straightened in his seat. He wasn't sure why a 'Big Brother' was important; he wasn't a mommy or a daddy, or even a measly uncle, like Uncle Marcus, or Uncle Carlos. Why was he important? "She's going to look up to you," his grandpa continued. "She's not going to know all the things you do, and she'll need you to protect her. She might wanna play with you and your friends, but she won't know all the games. She'll need you to be her teacher, and to show her the world."

He might not have enjoyed being the 'Big Brother' all the time, but he had taken it pretty serious, all things considered. When they first arrived at the hospital, all he had saw was this puny little red faced thing that every one fussed over, and no one paid him any attention. His dad wasn't there, as he was out saving the world again. Or, at least, that's what his mother told him every time Dom had to leave for another mission. His grandmother was crying softly, and hugging his momma, who held her arms out for him to curl up into.

Over the years, as Sylvia had grown older, he had taken his 'protector' bit pretty serious, although everything else had slid a bit. He always held her hand as they crossed the street, and got in trouble once for pulling down the kid from down the street and yelling in his face after he had pushed little Sylvia out of the swing and made her cry. They still had their fights as normal siblings do, but they were still close.

Sylvia crawled up into the couch, and Bennie flicked the tv on, flipping the channel to a Thrashball game. He wasn't old enough to understand all of the rules, but he was a Boy, and Boy's were supposed to like Thrashball, as was outlined in an unwritten code. He grabbed his miniature regulation ball and flipped it in the air as the players lined up at the thirty yard line. His favorite player, number Eighty-Three, or better known as the 'Cole Train' caught the next pass, and tore down the field. He brought the pass all the way for a touchdown. Bennie cheered along with the canned celebrations from the speakers. Sylvia clapped too, although she wasn't exactly sure why.

The cameras zoomed in on number Eighty-Three's broad frame, where he was celebrating with some of his teammates. He broke away from the huddle, and jumped up the wall separating the field from the fans. He sat on the wall, pulling off his helmet and celebrating with the cheering fans. Someone stuck a Santa hat on his head, where it perched there precariously, in constant danger of falling off.

"Santa!" Sylvia called happily, pointing at the tv with the hand that wasn't forever stuck in her mouth.

Bennie did a good-natured groan, protesting his sister's apparent lack of sports knowledge. "No, Sylvie," he said in his 'grown-up' voice. "That's the Cole Train. Santa is busy giving away presents."

She smiled at him, batting her thick, black lashes in a way that always made her father melt. "Santa," she repeated insistently.

Bennie got off the couch and narrowed his eyes at his sister. "Cole Train," he repeated in a slightly annoyed voice.

"Santa!" she called louder, giggling happily. After all, if her parents got to indulge in this childish game, why shouldn't she?

"Cole Train!" Bennie insisted, angry now.

"Santa!" Sylvia shrieked with laughter at her brother's red face.

Bennie glared at her a moment longer, before a wicked little smile crossed his face. "You're right…" he said slowly. "That's Santa, and he's giving away _all your presents._"

Sylvia immediately stopped laughing, her rosy lips falling open in a small 'o'. She sniffed, and her eyes filled with tears. "No!" she whined, not realizing her brother's prank. "No! Presents! Not Santa! No Santa!"

Her pleading cries grew louder, attracting the attention of their parents. They flooded in from the kitchen, taking in the scene with one swoop of their eyes. Bennie was trying to hush his sister, promising her that he was only joking, and that Santa was on his way right now.

"Bennie, damnit, what did you do?" Dom said angrily, picking up his now-sobbing daughter.

His eyes widened innocently, and he held his hands up. "I didn't do anything!" he protested.

"Come on, Dom," Maria said, coming to his rescue. "It's Christmas Eve. Just let it go." She crossed the room to turn off the tv, and Bennie molded into her leg, slightly behind her.

Dom's eyes were still angry as they looked at her, and then his son. "It's okay, baby," he comforted the crying child in his arms. He gave an exasperated sigh, fighting down his unexplained anger. "Alright," he began, trying to regain control of the situation. "I think its bedtime."

"But, Dad!" Bennie groaned, protesting his announcement. "Our bedtime's not for another hour. We _never_ go to bed this early!"

Dom felt like he had been smacked in the face when he realized he didn't even know when his children's bedtime was. It was just another instance of the effect the army had on his home life. Determined not to let this little spat ruin the scant amount of time Dom had with his family, he heeded Maria's advice, and let it go.

"Come with me, Bennie," Maria said, giving Dom a warning look with her eyes. "Let's get a plate of cookies ready for Santa." She rested her hand on the back of his head, guiding him with light pressure from her fingers.

Bennie glanced up at his little sister as he passed her by. "Sorry, Sylvie," he whispered quietly, not sure if talking would upset his father again.

Dom watched them go into the kitchen, guilt churning in his gut. His temper would flare at the oddest of times, making him angry for the dumbest of reasons. The mandatory psychologists that all front-line gears were forced to meet with once every two months said that it could be a sign of PTSD, or post-traumatic-stress-disorder. It always happened suddenly, and he always regretted it soon after. Sylvia rested her head on his shoulder, staring up at him with watery brown eyes. She had stopped crying, at least. "Santa," she repeated stubbornly, challenging Dom to disagree with her.

"Santa," Dom agreed, carrying her into the kitchen.

In the other room, Maria was helping Bennie place ardently decorated sugar cookies on a plate. He mulled over the choices, finally choosing a wreath, Christmas tree, and a snowflake. Maria bit down a smile as he gently placed the cookies one way, then would rearrange them on the plate, going for the best 'wow' factor. Finally choosing tree-wreath-snowflake, he gave his mother a nod. She grinned at him, standing up and gingerly putting the plate onto the kitchen table.

"Not here!" Bennie cried, reaching for the plate.

He almost dumped the plate of cookies, but Maria rescued it from him just in time. "What's wrong?" she asked him, bewildered.

Bennie gave her an unhappy look. "If you put them in the kitchen, Santa won't find them, and he won't leave us presents!"

"Alright…" Maria hedged, just as Dom and Sylvia entered the room. "What if we left them by the tree?" Bennie agreed to this, and Maria led the troops out to the living room again. In passing, Dom rested his hand on Bennie's head, giving him a subtle apology. Bennie grinned up at his father, who winked at him in return. Their minor spat was put behind them as Maria rested the plate on the end-table.

"Alright then," Maria sighed, setting her hands against the small of her back; a habit picked up from her pregnancy. "Any other Christmas traditions we're forgetting?"

"Snow," Sylvia said mournfully, looking up at her mother with those big, beautiful, brown eyes.

Maria felt a pang of sadness at her daughter's disappointment. Bennie had filled her imagination of with tales of building snowmen, sledding, snowball fights, and hours upon hours of fun in the cold, fluffy snow. Even though the temperature had dipped below freezing multiple times, it was the driest winter on record. Only a few drifts of snow had fallen, teasing Sylvia's hopes for a white Christmas. "I know, sweetheart," she said, sitting on the couch next to her. "There's still plenty of time, however."

Sylvia slowly placed her thumb in her mouth sadly, her way of letting the world know she was upset. She was the picture of pitiful, and Dom felt the urge to chuckle at her plight, the way people laughed at tiny puppies and kittens. At the same time, he yearned for the days when his biggest worries were snow on Christmas. It wasn't that long ago, actually. He had married, had a son, and made commando all before eighteen. He remembered the way his gut had clenched with worry when Maria had told him she was late. He had joined the army to support his budding family, determined not to let down his parents or his young wife. His biggest worry hadn't been stepping up to bat - he knew his family would support him - but what Marcus and Carlos would think of him if he _didn't_ step up. Now, he had Sylvia, and Carlos was gone, but Dom knew that wherever he was, he would have been proud.

A sudden scraping on the front porch interrupted their family gathering. Dom's battle-tested instincts had him immediately reaching for his sidearm, only to remember he had left it upstairs - unloaded - as his two small children had a habit of getting into things they shouldn't. The scraping noise repeated, and Dom looked at Maria questioningly, silently asking if she was expecting anyone. Maria gave him a shake of the head, answering his unspoken question soundlessly. She rose to her feet, keeping a hand behind her to keep Sylvia on the couch.

Dom pushed Bennie towards Maria, and he went wordlessly. Dom went to the front window, standing off to the side as he lifted the light curtain with a single finger, craning his neck to peer out. "I don't see anything-" he said, just as the scraping noise repeated.

"Santa?" Sylvia asked, rolling upwards to her knees to peer out the window behind her. Maria snatched her from the couch, holding her on her cocked waist as she backed away from the window. She hadn't been a soldier's wife all these years without picking up some protective skills.

Their neighborhood was in the rougher end of town - one of the reasons they could afford to rent it. It wasn't in the worst part of the city, but break-ins and robberies weren't uncommon. Dom cursed quietly, not seeing a thing past the lights reflecting off the window. Although, if it was a robber, he was making an awful lot of sound…

A hollow _thunk_ echoed off the front porch, much closer than the other sounds. Dom heard a gravelly voice curse as the porch swing skidded across the wooden floor - as if someone had accidentally kicked it in the darkness.

_You picked the _wrong_ house, buddy,_ Dom thought to himself. "Get the kids in the kitchen, now," he said quietly to Maria. She heeded his order, ushering the kids into the next room. Dom's gun may have been upstairs, but he unsheathed his commando knife silently. He was just as deadly with it as he was his lancer. He positioned himself on the far side of the front entrance, knife held at the ready, point down. Commandos were taught to do more slashing than stabbing, and he unconsciously called on all his training.

Sylvia didn't understand the tense atmosphere. She struggled in her mother's grasp, trying to get a clear view of the front door from Maria's arms. When the scraping sound repeated - just on the other side of the front door - she saw her father clench his big knife tight in one fist. She fought against her mother, the movement swift enough that Maria lost her hold on her. Maria snatched for her, her fingers missing Sylvia's small body by inches. "Sylvia!" Maria called, frantically.

But Sylvia wasn't listening. She was positive that Santa was on the other side of that door, and she was determined to see it for herself. The front knob was turning, the door creaking open just as she reached it. Dom grabbed for her one-handedly, awkwardly adjusting his hold on the knife as to not accidentally cut her. She easily out maneuvered him, twisting her fingers into the crack opening between the door and frame. She was vaguely aware of Maria chasing her, of Dom reaching for her, as she yanked the front door open.

The first thing she noticed from her low vantage point were the boots. They weren't the shiny black leather that had adorned the many pictures of Santa that she had seen. They weren't even leather. They were the familiar metal boots, similar to her father's that she had loved to sit on as he walked when she was smaller. Tilting her head upward, her eyes followed the huge man in front of her, up through his LBD, his chest armor, and up to the familiar black doo-rag that could only mean one person.

"Uncle Marcus!" she squealed, running out onto the cold porch to greet him. Her bare feet pounded the frozen wood, and she hopped impatiently, waiting for him to pick her up. He did, holding her stiffly against his tall body. None of the easy rocking movement people adapted when holding a child was present in his stance. Sylvia reached her hand up to his forehead, yanking off his doo-rag and plopping it on her head. It was their game that they had invented. Marcus didn't even flinch as the cold wind whipped through his short, dark hair.

Dom breathed out a sigh, deftly slipping his knife back into the sheath. "Marcus?" he questioned. "What's up?" Usually - always - Marcus was welcomed with open arms into the Santiago house. Tonight, he looked more grim than usual, and Dom was worried by the fact that he was technically still on duty, and was in armor.

"We need to talk," Marcus said gruffly to Dom, setting Sylvia back on her cold feet. He entered their home, standing awkwardly in the foyer.

Maria joined their half-circle, crossing her arms over her chest in a subconscious move of protecting herself from bad news. Marcus' stoic face revealed nothing. "Dad perfected the Hammer of Dawn. That brought the UIR to the negotiating table. Their working out terms of surrendering now."

The news brought forth a stunned silence. Marcus didn't beat around the bush, cutting straight towards the heart of the conversation. Dom and Maria needed a moment to digest the information. The pendulum wars had drug on between the UIR and the COG for almost eighty years. The all-too-real possibility of peace was no small thing. "But…that could mean…" Dom started saying, staring at Maria and Marcus.

"The end of the war…" Maria finished, wonder in her voice as she hesitantly tried to imagine a world at peace.

Maria let out a shocked squeal as Dom swept her up in his arms and kissed her, jubilantly. She had to laugh when they broke apart, joy filling in her heart. No more late nights, scanning the news for information about COG casualties, no more worrying herself sick about Dom and Marcus when they were deployed. And best of all - no more war for her young children to deal with.

Dom clapped Marcus on the shoulder, who smiled slightly. He wasn't great with emotion - growing up in the Fenix mansion had taken care of that. It was a shame, because even when they were celebrating Marcus maintained his hard outer shell. Bennie pulled worriedly on his father's pants legs.

"Dad?" he questioned, who picked him up immediately, grinning widely. "Does this mean I can't be a gear now?"

This made the three adults laugh boisterously. Bennie had always wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, having a romantic view of war from his young age. To him, it meant adventure, honor, and camaraderie. He didn't yet understand the horrors of war - the squad mates Dom had seen die before his eyes, the sound of bullets whizzing past his helmets, missing his skull by inches. And the worse memory Marcus had - that still haunted him to this day. The sound of Carlos laying dieing on the bridge at Aspho fields, telling him to watch over Dom right before he pulled the pin on the grenade that took his life.

"Nope!" Dom laughed, answering his son's question. "You're going to go to school, and get a degree, and be a scientist working in a stuffy old lab, and make tons of money, and buy a huge mansion for your old man!"

Bennie's sharp "No!" made the adults just laugh harder. Even Bennie wasn't truly upset, however. He just enjoyed the happiness of the adults, in the easy-going way children picked up on the emotions of their parents. This was a time for celebration, to enjoy the company of their family and look forward to the new year with the prospect of peace on Sera.

The moment was shattered when Maria reached for Sylvia, only to see she wasn't there. "Sylvie?" she called, looking behind her for her daughter. A flash of panic went through the pit of her stomach when she saw the wide open front door, and the pitch blackness beyond.

"Sylvia!" she half-screamed, rushing for the open front door. The bitter cold wind whipped her hair, and she scanned the absolute darkness for any sign of her young daughter. Panic caused her heart to race as she ran to the edge of the porch, wanting to be running for her daughter but having no idea where to go. Dom was right behind her, searching the yard. Marcus, the only adult to keep their head, flicked on the porch light.

Maria froze at the sight the light brought. Her daughter, standing unharmed in the middle of the yard in the halo of light. She breathed a sigh of relief, but that wasn't what caught her attention. It was the _snow_.

Big, beautiful snowflakes sparkled in the reflections from the light. They danced in the wind, decorating the world with the delicate crystals. Sylvia spun in a slow circle, wonder alight in her eyes. Snowflakes softly fell onto her hair. She held her hand out, trying to catch the snowflakes in her small grasp. It melted on her palm, so she tilted her head back to catch the dancing flakes on her tongue. Her eyes widened as she tasted the cold flakes of Christmas in her mouth. She giggled, looking for her mom as the snow fell around her. "Snow," she said happily.

Maria's heart melted as she watched her daughter delight in something as simple as snow. She didn't even feel the cold anymore as she listened to Sylvia's delighted giggles. Dom wrapped a hand around her shoulders, and she knew he also felt how special the moment was. It was funny - one moment they were ecstatic about the possibility of a world-changing surrender of the UIR, the next they were just as happy watching a young girl dance with the snowflakes in the cold, the night before Christmas. It was just a simple reminder to never get sidetracked in life, and to always take time to enjoy the little things.

Bennie leaned into Marcus' leg; feeling as comfortable with the stoic gear as he did his own father. Marcus stiffened for a second at the unexpected contact, but then accepted it. He rested his hand on the top of Bennie's head- the only show of affection Bennie had ever received from him. Bennie had just accepted the emotionless Marcus as a fact of life as he beamed up at his makeshift uncle. After Carlos had died at Aspho Fields - a nightmare that haunted Marcus to this day - Marcus had stepped in to fill that void in Bennie's and Sylvia's life. He did it pretty well, all things considered.

Maria leaned into Dom's chest, feeling his warmth run through her. She smiled slightly as the snowflakes fell silently into their little halo of peace and light. "Merry Christmas, you guys," she whispered fondly.

"God bless us," Dom said happily. "Every one."With that, the halo of peace was shattered. Maria snorted, pulling away from him. "Oh, no you didn't!" she cajoled him.

Dom's eyes widened as Maria's laughter spread to the rest of the group. "What did I do?" he spluttered.

Bennie shook his head and stepped away from Marcus. "Too, cheesy, Dad!"

"Really?" Dom asked, as Marcus cracked a hint of a smile. "I just felt it was…right, you know?"

Marcus shook his head, motioning for Bennie to follow him back inside. "If this gets any cornier, it'll become a friggin' Christmas special. Let's get back inside."

Maria rolled her eyes at her husband as she followed Marcus and Bennie back inside, still chuckling slightly. Dom watched them go before turning to his daughter. "You don't think I'm corny, do you, girl?"

Dom picked Sylvia up, and her frozen hands tucked themselves around his neck for heat. She grinned at him. "Daddy corny!" she parroted in the teasing way children had.

Dom shrugged as he carried her inside. "Sylvia trouble," he mocked, giving her a funny look that made her giggle. Even with all the teasing, there was no other place on Sera that he'd rather be in that moment. With the thought of peace and the end of the war hanging in the balance, he silently hoped that he'd have more moments like this in the future. He loved his family dearly, and treasured each minute he spent with them before Bennie and Sylvia grew up.

The snow still fell silently outside the Santiago home as Dom shut the front door to enjoy the last Christmas with his family.

**Hope you enjoyed this! Really wrote this for a friend of mine, who was deployed back to Afghanistan over Christmas, leaving his wife to play 'Santa' for their two young kids. So these holidays, while you enjoy time with your family, take time to remember those who can't be home for the holidays, no matter what the reason.**

**Want more? Check out my story "A Father's Love"! It can be found on my profile! Sylvia Santiago survives E-day and wanders around a broken Sera under a false name. Fifteen years later, she finally meets up with her father, Dominic Santiago. Will they recognize each other? And more importantly, will they forgive each other?**

**Before you leave to go check out my profile, remember with every review, a Christmas miracle comes true somewhere in the world. So leave a review, if you please!**

**Merry Christmas! :D**


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